Best Friend's Baby
by rainbowsecrets
Summary: What if the man I decided to take a chance on had superhero sperm? Bella and Edward are just friends... Friends that have sex on the odd occasion. What happen's when they take a risk and go with the flow? 'What do you mean? You did a test, it was negative.' 'I did another, it was positive.'
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Republishing this story so I can finish it off. Made a couple of changes, but not many, hope you are all looking forward to it :) I do not own any of the Twilight Characters SM does. All Human.**

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Five minutes it says to wait the longest five minutes ever and then bam; your life is changed forever. Imagine what it would be like to have your life turned upside down. Actually I best not. I need to seriously calm down. 'Breathe Bella, Breathe' I chanted to myself. I had never in my wildest dreams imagined this, that I would be doing this. I watch the hands move on my DKNY watch, counting down the minutes, counting down to my fate. I really can't be? Can I?

It was only once! We had done the deed a many a times, but the one time that we just go with the flow. Images of that night come to be like photographs. Why oh why do I feel like everything is against us? That the world is against us? That this is going to happen and change my life forever.

Let's think how the hell did I get in this mess? Oh well the position wouldn't of helped. Oh shit! Me on my back, legs wrapped around his neck is possibly the most sperm receptive position of all time. And trust it to be on the fourteen day of my cycle, just typical. Why didn't I realise this sooner?

What else was wrong with this night? Oh the underwear. Navy blue lace knickers, and on a weekday. What am I trying to be a whore? And to add to this I can't drive. If I could have driven this could have all been avoided surely? If only my mother didn't think I need to be wrapped in cotton wool! If she had just trusted me that I could do it and bought me driving lesson at sixteen like any other reasonable mother in the whole world. If she didn't assume I was going to have an accident. She's thinks I am a walking accident, one that is just waiting to happen. I would have driven home, safely home, and most probably in some nice sensible knickers, and I could have been tucked up in bed by 11 p.m. instead of flat on my back with my legs around Edward Cullen's neck.

I cannot be pregnant. Please…Please…I'm begging you God! You can't do this to me! I don't even have a boyfriend, please don't punish me! Me and Edward are just good friends. Trust me on that. So we tend to fall into each other's beds after one too many drinks on a Friday night, when we wanted a cuddle. I swear we are only good friends. Nothing more. So please don't make me have a child. I know I've slept with him more times that it could be seen as just a one off, but it's still less than to be considered that we are seeing each other. After we have one of our little encounters, we don't end up spending the weekend together, we don't do couplely things together like going to garden centres or using cutesy voices on the phone; and I swear I have never bought his mother's birthday present on his behalf.

We don't act like a couple at all; we act like friends. Even in the morning when we wake up after I've stayed the night we just go our separate ways. Me back to my girly shared house and Edward to his Swanky looking flat in different areas of Seattle. At the end of the day we really are just two different people who live two different likes. So really this test can't be positive. It wouldn't work; me and Edward.

They say you only have to do it once and you could be pregnant. And what if the man I decided to take a chance on had superhero sperm? And it only takes one sperm, one chance, one moment, and then bam! Everything that you thought about in your future is changed. Moments unwritten have been written to at least some point. Life changed forever. That just sounds scary.

But anyway we're about to find out. I pick up the test. I'm looking at it now, I filled with nerves. All I can hear is my heart beating way to many beats per a minute. I grip the test tight in my hands and I'm trying to see straight and…

I AM! Shit I am! There are two lines! There are two…!

Oh. No.

But there's not.

I'm not because there are two lines, but there's no cross. Which means it's negative. No baby. Thank you Lord.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I do not own any of the Twilight Characters SM does. All Human.**

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I have always thought that having sex with your male best friend would have one of two outcomes. Either it would be undisputed disaster, from which your friendship would never recuperate. Or it would be an epiphany. You'd wonder why on earth you'd never done it before.

I'd experienced the first: Eric Yorkie, at Seattle University, 1998. Eric was my best mate on my French course, until a moment of intoxicated insanity, around about the four drink point, the point at which I apparently believed I was alluring and was utterly irresistible; to all members of the opposite sex. That's also the point at which I should have gone to bed, my dignity in one piece; Intact. But no, it was this point I decided Eric Yorkie needed to know this; _that my French oral wasn't half as good as that in the bedroom. _We went back to my room in halls, closed the blue and pink curtains and poured each other glass after glass of cheap white wine. With each glass, the edges of his face grew more blurred as did any good judgement I'd ever possessed. After over an hour of trying to get a comatosed Eric to maintain an erection long enough to get a condom on, we passed out. When I woke up, my head bounding as if someone was living inside and drilling into the side of my head, the blackheads on his nose somewhat too close for comfort, I knew it had been a big, huge, no…colossal mistake. Excruciating, was the five minute walk across the campus to our first tutorial that day, one of the most excruciating experiences my life so far. I would love to know how anyone could act normal after you spent the night wrestling with your best friend, now ex-friends, and uncooperative penis? Trust me. There is no way; our friendship could come back from there.

But Edward is different; sex with him is never a disaster; but we haven't exactly had that light bulb moment either. It's just, you know, nice. Like getting into a warm bath after a freezing day, or finding a twenty dollar bill in your jeans pocket.

We met in November 1997, in the university library, both of us wading though our very first English essay. At eighteen years old I was a dangerous mixture of ecstatic and terrified to be officially independent. Two years my senior, Edward seemed like he'd been knocking around on his own all his life. He was sitting opposite me his head buried in the same books as mine was (and probably every other first year English lit student there). But it was the intense frown that really made me laugh, it told of utter and total bafflement. My feeling exactly!

'Is that making about as much sense to you as it is to me?' I said, hoping this guy was in need of a distraction too.

Edward looked up.

'You mean none whatsoever?'

'That's the one!'

He smiled, broadly.

That was it, we were off. Couldn't shut us up for two whole hours. We sacked off the work and went for a drink in the end because neither of us could figure out the book and we were having too much of a good time chatting. I felt like we had cracked the secret to something there that afternoon. Secret of life, or maybe that was the beer talking. But of all the personality fireworks I didn't fancy Edward that day, still don't, maybe that's why sex with him has never been a big deal. It's not that Edward's un-fanciable, far from it; he's just not my type. But he is most other girls. He facial features are perfect and angular, he has lovely full lips and green; sparkly eyes, and hair of such a usual bronze colour. But I've never felt the urge to tear his clothes off.

If you had told me on the day we met or any time during the next eight years and six months, which is how long it took us to kiss, never mind have sex; that one day Edward Cullen and I would be occasional sex partners, I'd never have believed it. But we are and it's strange, most of all because I don't really get why it did take us so long. Until one cold weekend last May to be exact.

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**A/N: Great response so far :) Loving the alerts and favourites, how about some reviews to show me if you like it? :) Let me know what you think. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I do not own any of the Twilight Characters SM does. All Human.**

**Thanks for the great response it means a lot. :)**

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It was meant to be two day's hard graft cleaning up my parent's house, in a tiny place called Forks. I'd agreed to give it a makeover in return for a hundred dollars from my dad. I had asked Edward to help as he was the only person I knew who had a power drill, but from the first moment we got there, it felt more like a holiday than hard work.

I've never known larger taste as good as that first, exhausted pint drunk with Edward at the end of the first day. I remember the feeling I'd not been so happy for a long time. I told him about my childhood holidays spent here in Forks. He told me about his summers.

One pint turned into two, into threes, into four, until suddenly it was almost dark and we were surrounded by towers of empty bottles.

Edward sighed. 'This rocks, this is the best day I've had in ages.' Then he turned his head resting it on the wall and he added, 'With you.'

And it didn't feel awkward. I didn't get that feeling I was going to regret this in the morning. I just put my bottle down, threw my legs sideways over his knee and snogged him like we'd been going out for twenty odd years and this was one of those rare romantic nights made for rekindling the flame.

His hands slid up my thighs at a painstakingly slow speed. He started kissing my neck. I gasped, the shots of electricity were flying everywhere inside my body now. I was going to lose control any second. I took off his shirt feeling his ribbed abs and his flat stomach; he slowly started unbuttoning my shirt, kissing every bit of flesh that was revealed. Edward pulled my body against him, much harder than I was expecting. His fingers kept sliding up and down my smooth torso, feeling the slender fabric of my bra on the sides. I felt myself crumbling, forgetting everything but his touch and smell. The world was disappearing around us. All I could see, feel, smell was him. Him. I wanted him so badly. Now. Before it was too late.

"Please, please," I almost growled into his ear, trying to get it out before I was lost to my desire. "Please don't let this ruin anything. Please tell me. Anything. If I go too far." I felt incoherent. "This feels too good. My mind is going..."

She pushed away from me enough to look into my eyes. Before saying 'Then just let it go.' We'd kissed now, what the hell. Sex seemed like the most obvious next step.

'I've never met anyone like you,' said Edward. 'I'm probably closer to you than I am to anyone.' And the thing was, right at that moment, I felt exactly the same.

'So, Swan that was going to happen all along was it not?' I remember Edward muttering as he stood in his boxers poring coffee into two chipped mugs. And I agreed. 'Predictable as death,' were the words I mumbled from under the duvet.

After all, if you rate one another highly enough to be close friends in the first place, then chances are; if you're opposite sexes, it's only a matter of time. That's not to say there aren't consequences. A quick of the carnage when I finally emerged that morning revealed my bra was hung on the back of a chair, my knickers up on the hob in the kitchen. There were CDs scattered all over the floor, ransacked in a frenzy of drunken delight, not one in its case. We'd danced to the backstreet boys, to George Michael, to Billy Joel for crying out loud! I'd made five thousand times the fool of myself as I had with Eric Yorkie and yet I wasn't one bit embarrassed.

I don't know what I expected after that night. I suppose I would have been happy to give a relationship a try, but then I was also petrified of ruining what we had. In the end, Edward made that decision for me; I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little deflated.

I called him on the Monday, the night after we got back. 'I had a brilliant time this weekend,' I said. Good opening I thought, perhaps this is where he says he couldn't agree more and ask me out?

Or not.

'Me too,' he giggled. 'It was a right laugh. I have particular fond memories of you doing a routine to I want it that way wearing only your pants.'

Brilliant, I thought. Absolutely typical. Could it be, perhaps, that I failed to give off the right signals?

But maybe that was no bad thing. Maybe there's a reason we felt no embarrassment whatsoever after our antics. So unembarrassed were we, in fact, that, a year later we seem to have fallen into a habit of just 'Doing it' whenever the need for a little no strings nookie grabs us.

'Think of it as a way of extending the fun we're having,' Edward always says, usually naked which doesn't exactly help, 'like going to an after hours bar.'

And this suits me too, because I don't think I know what I want. I can't fathom the working of his brain either if truth be told. All I know is that Edward Cullen and I have crossed the line. We no longer purely platonic, but we aren't lovers either. We're just two misguided fools frolicking about in a vast sprawling, savannah sized space commonly known at the grey area.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I do not own any of the Twilight Characters SM does. All Human.**

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It has been a whole week since the pregnancy scare and to be honest it is a good thing it was only a scare, because since then all I have done this week is accompanied people to different bars. Isn't it the curse of being unattached, that you end up attending everything with people; that you are expected to. Since us the unattached have no flat or wedding or even dog to save up for.

Tonight is a total example of this. 'I may kill someone if I don't get drunk this very evening,' was Alice's threat down the receiver that I, in a mid-afternoon slump, had cradled between my head and the desk. Sophia had decorated the walls with macaroni cheese, she said.

I love Alice, which is weird because it was far from love at first sight. In fact, thinking back to the first day we met in the university halls, when she introduced herself, I'm ashamed to say a little part of me withered with disappointment.

How could I, Bella swan, owner of:

Various pairs of old trainers

A very worn copy of Wuthering heights

A new but very scraggy looking hoodie

Obsession with Colin Firth

A poster of Che Guevara

Occasional marijuana habit that I fully intend to upgrade to moderate. Possibly this could happen because of sharing a room with Alice Brandon who owns:

Fluffy pink slippers

Designer clothes

Obsession with Dirty Dancing

Moderate horoscope reading habit.

The entire works of every boy band that you can think of.

But it was true and I was utterly gutted. Especially since I had just met a girl called Rosalie who had already designated her room as smoking zone. A room I wished I was sharing more than anything else in the world. Rosalie was the coolest girl in our halls and a guaranteed route to mischief, every night of the week. She had straight blonde hair that went to the middle of her back, she had a eccentric rose tattoo that went up the side of her body**, **and she owned a bong. And if that wasn't enough to make your average eighteen year old freshman practically pay to be her friend, she had about a million of her own friends from boarding school who were all as cool as she was.

It's easy to see how this Brandon girl didn't even get a look in during those first few days at university.

'Jasper says I can go out… I just need someone to go out with and guess what? You're the lucky lady!' Alice squealed down the phone, trying to be louder than Sophia. I don't really mind, Alice often inspires selfless acts of love from me.

I'd soon found out there was far more to this girl from New York than first met the eye. She could really put it away, for one. A childhood spent mixing drinks in her parent's bar saw to that. She had a real talent too, which whoever you are, I've always thought, can only add to your credibility.

I will never forget the last night of the first week of university, the night of the talent competition. Alice stood up, dressed in her Emilio Pucci Riviera print silk dress. She took the mike in one, and holding a Vodka and Bacardi in the other, she began to sing. It was 'Waterfalls' by TLC and it was utterly brilliant. Nobody moved or spoke, everyone just stared at this girl, this girl that was suddenly possessed all but the ghost of Ella Fitzgerald. She finished the song, put the mike down on the table, gulped down the rest of her drink and sat down.

There were five seconds of dumb founded silence, save for Rosalie whispering 'Fucking Hell' next to me. Then we began to clap, first slowly and then uproarious applause. It was brilliant, mind blowing, made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Alice could sing a song with such soul because of her life experiences.

Her mum walking out on her dad for a man half her age and then dying of ovarian cancer two months later; she watched her dad go from jovial bar owner to suicidal recluse; she had to bring up her two little brothers pretty much single handed as well as singing in her dad's pub in the evenings for tips.

So yes, there was a lot more to Alice Brandon. Rosalie got the Alice thing too, eventually, and we had thing to teach each other back then. Rosalie and I taught Alice how to be an irresponsible teenager something she'd kind of missed. And Alice was our surrogate mother when we needed one most, I suppose. Always the one with the plan of action, the best hangover cures. And the fact she'd seen a lot in her short life meant you waking up in some inappropriate bloke's bed with no recollection of the night before was no big deal.

'Look, nobody died, did they?' Alice would say, sitting on my bed as I growled under the duvet with shame. 'And look on the bright side; at least you didn't get so drunk you shit yourself.' Ever since a girl called Lauren Mallory had, actually, got so drunk she shit herself, this had been the scale against which we measured all mortifying events. After all, nothing could ever, ever be that bad.

A fortnight into term one, Rosalie, Alice and I were pretty much inseparable. By late November I'd brought Edward into the fold and we'd became a proper gang; Or as my dad put it, 'A foursome to be reckoned with.'

And I loved my friends, I idolized them, still do. Tonight one of them is simply asking me to accompany her to a pub, her first baby free night for weeks, for a couple of quiet drinks on a Thursday night, I can usually think of nothing I'd rather do, it's just tonight, I could do with a little help. I need Edward. So I decided to text him.

**E**

**Brandon needs beer.**

**I need bed. Help?**

**B**

It only takes a couple of minutes for a reply to pop up on my phone.

**B**

**No can do, have hot date. **

**I can come for the first hour**

**to ease the pain but then I **

**have to shoot. Going to see **

**Swan Lake?! HELP!**

**E**

The thought of Edward watching the dying swan, whilst wondering when he's going to fit in a pint and a snog brings a smile to my face. Still, an hour of his support is better than nothing; so I call Alice back and say 'You're on!'

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**A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Leave me a review and let me know if you love it or hate it.**


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